


Sheets

by Freffers



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, the obligatory one-bed fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freffers/pseuds/Freffers
Summary: In which Qrow and Winter elegantly avoid a delicate situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this silly little fluffle a while ago - while it's pretty rough around the edges I'm still fond of it. What can I say, I'm a sucker for these two not-quite-ing.

There was, of course, only one bed.  
  
There was only _ever_ one bed. Even when a booking specified the need for two, reality always conspired to ensure that one had defenestrated or cannibalised or molecularly absorbed the other by the time their unfortunate clients arrived. Winter didn't know why she still expected otherwise.  
  
She turned angrily to the Huntsman next to her, who muttered: "Not my fault."  
  
"You said you'd found us a twin!"  
  
"Listen, I'm no happier about this than you are."  
  
He really wasn't. As far as Qrow was concerned it was quite bad enough having to work with 'Specialist' Schnee - an overblown title for an equally overblown flunky. He knew that she returned his sentiments. Why they'd been assigned together on this mission escaped him; it wouldn't bolster Atlas-Vale cooperation, that was for sure. This predicament was going to make the night much more difficult than it needed to be.  
  
But, hey - perhaps there was a way to have fun with it.  
  
"Since we're here… bagsy the bed."  
  
The weary springs made a pitiful noise as Qrow landed on them (it was, of course, the cheapest inn in town). He crossed his legs and folded his arms behind his head, looking quite typically pleased with himself. A cocky half-smile, and he patted the other side as if to invite Winter to join him.  
  
She didn't even blink. "Are you out of your mind?"  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"It's a 'no'."  
  
"If you say so; but," - he looked around the room in theatrical fashion - "I don't see any other options."  
  
Her own eye movement unconsciously mimicked his to confirm the analysis; she hated it when he was right. But right or not, this would be a dangerous move.  
  
Winter understood their relationship well enough to know that, if she shared a bed with Qrow, they'd end up doing much more than that. The thought didn't particularly appeal, though she'd faced worse prospects in the field before. She cast a cool glance over the huntsman's body. _Much_ worse prospects.  
  
With something rather unlike resignation in her eyes, she approached the bed.  
  
Qrow's usual veneer slipped, just a little, though Winter couldn't quite put a name to what was beneath it. Fear, she hoped. A sigh loosened her shoulders, and the soldier disappeared.  
  
"So. We're really doing this."  
  
"Looks like it."  
  
"Right."  
  
A gloved hand slipped over the duvet, curled finger by finger under it. Slowly pulled it back. She leant in slightly, and Qrow could swear he heard her breathing closer than it was. It only began to occur to him that she hadn't yet changed out of uniform when her voice, at normal volume--  
  
"Then I'll sleep in the bath. Oh, and bagsy the sheets."  
  
In one fluid motion, Winter swept the bedding out from under him. A second later the door to the ensuite clicked shut.  
  
Qrow sat slack-jawed - alone - on the mattress.  
  
Oh, sure, he _got_ it; that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He clicked his tongue.  
  
" _… not funny_."

* * *

  
It was a colder night than forecast. Qrow, devoid of any blanket, felt it keenly.  
  
Normally he'd cope, or have a drink and then cope. But tonight he was particularly sober and therefore particularly petty. He wanted those sheets.  
  
He understood, even respected Winter's reasons. They could both predict how the alternative would play out. She would stick to her side. He would dare to spread out at some point. She'd complain about it. He'd make some sort of remark. She'd get annoyed. So would he. Things would turn physical. They'd wrestle for a bit, until the context of their fight and the smell of each other's bodies overtook them both and suddenly - much to their consternation - they wouldn't be fighting anymore.  
  
Running it through in his head, Qrow was struck by how laughable the whole scenario was - far too dramatic for the perfectly decent but rather unremarkable sex that would follow it. But if it meant warmth? Yes, he would sleep with Schnee. Even if it meant sleeping with Schnee.  
  
He hadn't actually planned to sleep, of course. He knew how he worked - the extent of the damage and what kind - and the only people allowed to be present while he slept were his old teammates. Qrow, like many in his profession, was a private man. Most nights those days were sleepless. It was no issue; he would spend some in induced unconsciousness instead, and split the remainder between fieldwork and rest.  
  
He'd hoped to use this night to rest. His brain insisted on it. And, of course, he'd pushed his luck and given Schnee cause to be clever and now he was cold on this, this one night--  
  
Screw that. Screw _her_. Qrow had needs and they were going to be met.

* * *

  
Soundlessly, Qrow opened the door to the ensuite and peered in at the sleeping Winter.  
  
His immediate impression was of a burrito.  
  
The bedding had been wrapped to form a large bundle around her, ballooning like some cancerous growth out of the enamel. She'd let down her bun and in the darkness it was hard to tell what was hair and what was sheet. Fantastic - what Qrow had hoped would be a simple theft now looked like an extremely complicated extrication. She was getting better at predicting him. That, or she was just as cold as he was.  
  
Her odd, pinched nose twitched slightly. Mimicking sleep - as decent an actress as Winter was, a veteran like Qrow could tell the difference. If she'd heard him enter, there was no being sneaky about this. He breathed and knelt down next to the tub.  
  
"Ice queen."  
  
"Stop watching me sleep, Qrow."  
  
"Ice queen, I think I finally understand. What it's like being _you_."  
  
"…What do you m--oh, because you're cold, very clever." She could _feel_ that terrible smirk without looking. Unamused, she curled deeper into her cocoon. "Well - my commiserations."  
  
"Winter, I'm freezing."  
  
"And I've got backache. We're both professionals, apparently; we'll survive."  
  
Qrow shifted his arms against the edge of the bath. This was getting ridiculous. "Y'know, it would solve all our problems if we just--"  
  
"Make 'no' part of your vocabulary? I agree."  
  
That was it.  
  
"Okay." Qrow stood up. "Hoookay. You might wanna wake up with severe muscle cramp, but I sure as hell don't. So--!"  
  
In an unorthodox display of culinary skill, Qrow picked up the duvet burrito, unceremoniously emptied it of its Wintery filling and swiftly departed with the shell - leaving its former contents spluttering incoherently on the bathroom floor.  
  
"Branwen, what the hell?!"  
  
"Later, Schnee."  
  
She wanted to make after him. She wanted to take the sheets back. But she was sure that he was counting on it, and Winter was not going to give him the pleasure of messing with her that night. So she kicked the door shut, grabbed a couple of towels off the rails and arranged them in the bathtub, one flat along the bottom and another doubled over the edge to serve as a headrest. Funnily enough, she'd done this exact same routine twice at home - both times after having locked herself in her bathroom during Father's more volatile rages. A lifetime ago, it felt like. Not long enough.  
  
Finally, Winter unhooked her tailcoat from behind the door and lay down in her makeshift bed, allowing the uniform to cover her like a blanket. The technical material, designed to withstand Atlas' coldest temperatures, would certainly keep her warmer than any towel offered here. She figured that she was unlikely to sleep tonight, but it was worth a try.  
  
As angry as she was, Winter felt an odd satisfaction. It wasn't often she got to outwit Qrow - if this could even be called that. He always made sure to have the last word, and if for some reason he didn't, he had his position to fall back on. It did feel rather good to deny him his fun. For once.  
  
Perhaps comforted by these thoughts, she somehow drifted off.

* * *

  
It couldn't have been a deep sleep, because all it took was a creak of the door to rouse Winter. The soldier's brain went through possible intruders with military speed, arriving within seconds on her associate. It took it a moment longer to arrive on why he was there.  
  
She groaned. " _Nnnnn_ , I'd forgotten about _that_." Bathrooms had a purpose other than second bedrooms after all. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting nothing less than to see Qrow in an indecent state for probably the fifth time. Fifth? Fourth - that last one might have been a--  
  
"'Fraid not." Silence; then a pillow hit her square in the face, followed by the heavy _whoomp_ of carelessly flung duvet. By the time her head had found its way out from under the avalanche, he'd gone.  
  
Honestly.  
  
That left Qrow with just a pillow and the undersheet. Hadn't he been whining about the cold? Winter had half a mind to climb out the bath and throw the duvet right back at him, but her complaining back reminded her that he did also have sole possession of the mattress and could hardly be described as suffering. That schemer had probably banked on her feeling generous anyway.  
  
So Winter just smiled, and let herself fall asleep once again.

* * *

  
She woke up at 4.30. _You can take the woman out of the barracks…_ she thought to herself, slightly frustrated by her all-too-punctual body clock. But it was just as well; as she was finishing fixing her tailcoat, a rapping at the door indicated that someone else had need of the bathroom, "for real this time".  
  
Qrow emerged some minutes later with Winter's share of the bedding. She insisted that the bed should be at least partially remade, which Qrow thought was pointless; the staff would have to strip the sheets anyway. Well, maybe not in this establishment. In any case, he couldn't expect a Schnee to know the first thing about hotel management. She ignored the barb and pointed out that they needed to make the room look as normal as possible. He decided not to disagree further.  
  
Winter went back into the bathroom to redo her bun as he changed. They were both ready by 5. Slower than usual. Earlier than necessary.  
  
Qrow lay back down on the half-made bed with a loud grunt and pulled out his scroll to go over mission details. Reception was poor, but he'd still received messages from both Ironwood and Ozpin - he read the latter first. Winter sat herself next to him, doing the same in reverse order. The silence was welcome.  
  
"… How are you?"  
  
"Cold. How's your back?"  
  
"Hurting."  
  
  
On balance, one of their better nights.


End file.
